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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355873">Melting Under Blue Skies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/veramendacious/pseuds/veramendacious'>veramendacious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crush at First Sight, M/M, canon-typical jon, season 1 AU, spoilers for the liveshow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:27:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/veramendacious/pseuds/veramendacious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The office door swings open suddenly with a vicious creak from the hinges. Jon barely has time to be startled before a cheerful but slightly harried voice rings out. </p><p>“Hey, sorry, you haven’t seen a dog, have you?”</p><p>Jon looks up.</p><p>His strange feeling of unease vanishes abruptly.</p><p>---</p><p>S1 AU: instead of being irritated at the dog in the archives, Jon takes one look at Martin and thinks to himself "oh that's boyfriend material." He's still Jon though, so naturally misunderstandings ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Melting Under Blue Skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>spoilers for the liveshow, all dialogue taken from there.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon’s tea is cold.</p><p>He sighs and grimaces his way through a mouthful anyway. It hadn't been good even when it was warm enough to be palatable, made in a rush before he descended alone into the depths of the Archives. Now the mug sits colds and sad on the desk, the teabag string hanging limply over the rim. Jon glares at it.</p><p>It wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks, if there were anything in this office that didn’t reek of <em>intimidating academia.</em> The desk is a solid, heavy thing with drawer pulls that clank menacingly when he tugs one open. Empty, of course. Jon doesn’t understand the point of them clearing out the previous Head Archivist’s effects; personal items, certainly, but surely Gertrude Robinson kept relevant files or documents in her desk to sort through. There isn’t even a pen left.</p><p>Or perhaps, considering the state of the rest of the Archives, it isn’t too far-fetched to assume that Ms Robinson spent her last decades merrily knitting away at this very desk, letting the statements and files pile up outside her office door until she died three rows before completing whatever cableknit had surely occupied her time.</p><p>Jon could use a nice knitted jumper right now. The office is rather cold.</p><p><em>His</em> office now, he supposes. And <em>his</em> desk. He eyes the desk warily, the broad expanse of its dark polished surface mocking him for its emptiness. The chunky Institute laptop seems out of place on this dark desk, in this strangely dim room packed with bookshelves and filing cabinets. No chance of them emptying those out too, he thinks sourly. The brief glance he’d taken inside one of the cabinets had revealed a mess of wrinkled papers jammed haphazardly into unlabeled folders. Jon had closed the cabinet and resolved to think about it another day.</p><p>He sighs and turns back to the laptop.</p><p><em>Digitize files,</em> he’d told Rosie, and it’s not a bad place to start he thinks. That’s what Archivists do, after all. They archive. And written statements should be archived with some form of audio file, for accessibility reasons. He thinks.</p><p>It shouldn’t have been a bad place to start, but the blank manila folder in front of him containing its laughably implausible statement still defies his efforts.</p><p>He makes no claim of being anything more than the most basic of tech savvie -- Sasha’s computer skills were certainly a motivating factor in Jon requesting her to the Archives with him -- but he can think of no reason why fifteen minutes of audio from the statement he just recorded would simply refuse to play.</p><p>He clicks aimlessly at a few things in the tool bar, reluctant to admit to himself that his first official act as Head Archivist of the Magus Institute has been a waste of time. He feels strangely unnerved -- not by the statement, of course; it was surprisingly well-written and compelling to read, but obviously rubbish. No, it’s the sudden silence of the place, the air feeling too close, as though all two hundred years of the building’s history and secrets were waiting for this moment of stillness, alone in his new office.</p><p>He can’t account for this sudden unmistakable feeling of dread, the nervous swoop in the pit of his stomach and the prickle at the back of his neck as he contemplates the magnitude of the task ahead of him.</p><p>He takes another sip of his unappetizing tea, idly tapping a finger on the space bar of the laptop.</p><p>The office door swings open suddenly with a vicious creak from the hinges. Jon barely has time to be startled before a cheerful but slightly harried voice rings out.</p><p>“Hey, sorry, you haven’t seen a dog, have you?”</p><p>Jon looks up.</p><p>And up, and up, at the tall man hovering in the doorway. <em>Oh,</em> Jon thinks.</p><p>His strange feeling of unease vanishes abruptly.</p><p>Jon vaguely recognizes the man, of course; his large frame makes him a figure not easily missed among the hundred or so employees at the Institute. He’s never gotten the chance to really look at his face, however. Jon likes what he sees.</p><p>The man looks -- kind. His warm, friendly expression is pinched by the anxious cast of his eyebrows, but his easy smile lights a small spark in Jon's chest. The warmth the man brings with him extends to the office as well, radiating through the chill and smoothing over the blocky desk and Jon's own frustration. A wavy bit of hair flops over the man's forehead.</p><p><em>Oh no,</em> Jon thinks.</p><p>He realizes he is staring a moment too late and scrambles back to the conversation. "I'm s- Sorry, what?"</p><p>"Um," the man says, his smile turning apologetic. His eyes crinkle at the corners. His very blue eyes. "Uh, a dog. A Spaniel, I think."</p><p>Jon, already caught off guard, can't think of a single thing to say. A dog. A Spaniel?</p><p>"In… in general, or..?" he manages.</p><p>The man laughs a little and pushes his fringe out of his face. Jon's heart speeds up. "No, no," he says. "In the Archives."</p><p>Jon is completely lost. "Why would there be a dog in the Archives?"</p><p>Actually, he reflects, with all the disorganization and hidden corners down here in the Archives it's not inconceivable that there is an entire dog lurking behind a cabinet. Ms Robinson would have needed someone as an assistant after all.</p><p>"Oh, 'cause, well. I..." He trails off and fidgets with his hands. His fingernails are painted a flashy blue.</p><p>Jon abruptly doesn't care about the dog. "Who are you?" he asks.</p><p>A little nervous chuckle. "Uh, Martin! I - and, 'cause…I may have…let him in?"</p><p>The man -- <em>Martin</em> -- stumbles over his words. He's still smiling, but it's small and strained.</p><p>Jon starts to stand, to give himself anything to do that's not just staring at Martin while desperately trying to work his way through this baffling encounter. He notices again how very tall Martin is. Right. The dog.</p><p>"What?" he says intelligently. "Why?''</p><p>"Oh, hah." Martin reaches up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, pulling his soft-looking jumper tight across his broad shoulders. Jon inhales steadily. "Well, I didn't - I didn't mean to - "</p><p>Martin is very expressive as he trips through the rest of his explanation, gesturing and using his beseeching eyebrows to great effect. Jon is charmed despite himself. The dog, he decides, does not require his immediate attention.</p><p>"Why were you coming into the Archives?" he asks. Perhaps he works with IT and has serendipitously come here to solve Jon's laptop recording issues. Perhaps he visits the Archives a lot, perhaps he can visit Jon a lot…</p><p>"Oh!" Martin says, his nervous smile blooming into something real and lovely. "Uh, I - I work here!"</p><p>And once again Jon's tenuous grasp on this conversation slips.</p><p>"No you don't," is all he can think to say. You <em>can't,</em> is what he wants to say. "I requested Tim, and I requested Sasha, and you are neither."</p><p>He's distantly aware of his tone flattening out in his confusion, of his arms crossed defensively. This conversation, this day, Christ this whole job is already getting away from him, and Martin is still fidgeting in his office doorway.</p><p>"Oh!" Martin says again, hitching an even brighter smile onto his face. "Oh, you're - Jonathan. Sims, yeah. Um, Mr Bouchard said I'd be working for you."</p><p>Jon is going to kill Elias. "Well he didn't tell me anything about it," he mutters. Elias Bouchard had been nothing but professionally encouraging to him when Jon stammered his way through accepting his promotion. When Jon couldn't think of a third person to name as Archival Assistant, Elias had just nodded and reminded Jon he could submit a name at any time once he'd settled in. There was never any indication of Elias planning to appoint an assistant himself.</p><p>The full scope of the situation starts to make itself clear to Jon.</p><p>"He, uh," Martin says, looking away, "he said that, um. Well, he transferred me from the Library, so."</p><p>There's a dull sinking feeling spreading through his chest, endangering the spark lodged there by Martin's smile. "So I'm your boss," he realizes.</p><p>Martin shrugs. "I mean, I guess!"</p><p>This is a disaster.</p><p>He's Martin's <em>boss.</em></p><p>He's an unqualified, unsociable, uncertain mess and he is meant to be strictly manager to this vibrant man who makes Jon feel unaccountably warm.</p><p>This cannot be allowed.</p><p>Jon takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes, and douses that little ember in his chest. "Which means," he grits out, "that technically I have the power to dismiss you if this dog situation is not resolved immediately."</p><p>Does that sound managerial? He's going for authoritative, but he's aware that his tone and posture come off as irritated more often than not. No matter. Establish the boundaries between assistant and manager firmly from the beginning, and maybe Jon's eyes will eventually stop landing on the breadth of Martin's shoulders.</p><p>Martin nods agreeably. "I mean, yeah, probably."</p><p>There's a small silence.</p><p>"Oh," Martin says. His eyes widen. "Oh, yes! R-right, sorry, uh. I- I'll. Sorry!"</p><p>He starts backing out of the office, scuffing a shoe over the carpet in his haste. A dull flush creeps over the freckles on his cheeks. Jon firmly looks away.</p><p>"Sorry!" he says one more time, and then he's gone, fumbling with the door behind him. The hinges make the same irritating squeak that echoes in the sudden return to silence.</p><p>And Jon's left standing alone behind his desk in his new office, staring after Martin.</p><p>"Well that's…" He sighs. "Not ideal."</p><p>His new job just got a whole lot more difficult.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! i have plans for a followup that goes through the end of s1, hopefully coming soon :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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